Going Dutch

Dutch angle. "The process where a camera is angled so that the horizontal frame line is not parallel to the horizon." (Microfilmmaker Magazine online filmmaker's dictionary). I learned this term recently while receiving photo tips from a local photographer.

Dutch Door. This is the playhouse door. I've always wanted a Dutch door. The inside of the door is painted with chalkboard paint, which I wish I could paint every door with as I love chalkboards.

Dutch Barn. I picked up this little plate for 50 cents at the thrift store the other day. I absolutely love it and will find a good use for it come winter. My husband does not like Dutch Barn inspired architecture. He also does not like to be photographed. No Dutch angles of George. He is not a Dutch Uncle , contrary to what this picture may suggest. His favorite bread is Dutch Crunch.

Dutch Proverb. Een man met baard, daar is een vrouw bij bewaard. A bearded man is a woman provided for. We only went Dutch on one date before he set me straight. He's an old fashioned kind of guy that pays for dates and opens doors. We haven't been on a date for a long time, Dutch or otherwise, but I'm not complaining because I am well provided for.

Dutch Baby. An excellent treat on a cold Sunday morning. If you are opposed to eating something containing the word "baby", call it an oven pancake. I use this recipe, but I add sliced apples or pears to the skillet before adding the batter. It makes me long for Yorkshire Pudding, but I will have to wait until December to indulge that craving.
Dutch Dollhouse. While you are waiting for the baby to come out of the oven, check out this cool website. You can move the characters around within the house and adjust the shadows and lighting for desired effect. The rest of the website is pretty great too. My kids love the collage maker.

Double Dutch. A jump rope technique that also means gibberish. Have a great weekend, and don't gibber too much.

A Girl's Gotta Do What a Girl's Gotta Do

And this girl's gotta knit socks. When she first asked me to help her start this project, my instinct was to say no. Then The Yarn Harlot's words sounded in my ear, "Five year old Danish children can do it", so why can't my seven year old daughter? I've learned not to underestimate Avery. Last year when I taught her to knit, I cast on for her. Several months later she asked me to show her how to cast on, and she declared it was easy and she could cast on forever. In fact, sometimes I catch her casting on, ripping it off the needles, and casting on again. I thought casting on might be difficult for her, but it's become one of her favorite past times.So, she cast on 24 stitches, I helped her divide and join the stitches between two pairs of circular needles, taught her how to purl, and she began ribbing. Just like that. What I could not do until I was 30 she was doing at 7. I attempted to convince her to make a pair of tube socks for her sock monkey, but she is adamant about turning a heel.
Avery told me she was "born to purl". I should put that on a t-shirt for her. I do not enjoy purling myself, so she has offered to do the ribbing on my socks. I think she just wants to use my Addi Turbo needles, which she declared "way better" than her Susan Bates needles. What a dynamic knitting duo we make. The other morning we sat together, each knitting our own socks, listening to the first KnitPicks podcast. It is an immeasurable joy to share an ancient craft and current passion with my favorite girl. Now I know how my mom must have felt when I learned to knit some twenty-odd years ago.

This Is What It's Supposed To Look Like

My living room, the way I would like it to look everyday. It only looks like this when I get the house to myself for a few hours and get busy cleaning while listening to A Prairie Home Companion. The couch then beckons me to sit down and knit the heel flap on Aidan's sock. Clean house + knitting = happy mommy.


Unfortunately, my house does not always look like the above picture. Rest assured that within twenty four hours, the Legos in the picnic basket will be dumped, the ottoman will be covered with books and abandoned math assignments, the window seat will be covered with more books and items that need to be returned to neighbors, the cushions on the couch will be propped up and covered with blankets, and there will be five shoes and three socks on the floor.

As my grandma said on her last visit, "Your house looks lived in." I have learned that living is messy business, and while I sometimes envy people who don't bring extra messes into their lives by crafting, remodeling, thrifting or homeschooling, we all haves messes of one kind or another, and no house is impervious to dust, dirt or clutter. Sooner or later, everyone's ceiling fan will look like this:

Some just clean it sooner than others.

It's Electrifying

Ooh, electrons.
"Actually, mom, it's Radioshack."

Head over to Freckled Nest for some electrifying specials.

Who Wrote the Book of (Blog) Love

When I was in the fifth grade, I "went out" with a boy named Ronnie What'sHisName for a whole 24 hours, until he dumped me and started "going out" with Sarah WhoDoesSheThinkSheIs (last names changed to protect identity). I remember going home after school and hearing the song Sarah by Jefferson Starship (go see), you know, No time is a good time for goodbye (bad hair, good video - is that Rebecca DeMornay?) I cried and cried some more. Storms are brew'in in your eyes. It was so traumatic, in fact, that I didn't have another boyfriend until my late teens (not that Ronnie is all to blame for that), and I haven't met a Sarah I liked since. Until now. Sarah of Still Life in Yarn, out of the blue, sent me a package filled with the goodies above. Well, not completely out of the blue. I drooled over her gnome fabric after seeing a picture of it on Flickr and offered to take any scraps off her hands. Ask and you shall receive. Thank you , thank you, thank you Sarah. I have lots of plans for these beautiful fabrics, and I'm open to suggestions for putting the baby cashmerino to good use. It's going to feel so good on needles.


In other news, upon extensive research this weekend, I discovered that I am breaking a cardinal rule of blog etiquette. According to growyourwritingbusiness.com, a sure way to "make other bloggers hate you" is to "never reply to comments at your blog." In my defense, I do reply to comments when I have an email address to respond to, but most comments submitted via Blogger show up in my email as noreply-comment@blogger.com. Folks over at Typepad or Wordpress do not have this problem and almost always reply to my comments, one of the many reasons I am considering a move. (If you have a Typepad or Wordpress blog, please let me know if I should make a deposit, pack my bags, and change my address.) I could leave a comment on my own blog to follow up on your comments, but, besides me and my mom, does anyone come back and read the comments? Fortunately, after several phone calls and emails with my friend Marjorie, I discovered a solution to the noreply-comment problem. If you have a Blogger account and would like to receive replies to your comments, go to your Dashboard, then Edit Profile, and under Privacy, select "Show my email address". You are now set up to receive responses to your carefully crafted and beautifully executed comments. I would love to keep the conversation going, and I apologize if my lack of response indicated lack of interest. Just lack of knowledge and experience.


Curious readers may wonder what type of "extensive research" I was doing this weekend, and how I ended up at growyourwritingbusiness.com. I started blogging as a personal outlet and a way to inspire my children to write, but along the way I unearthed a passion for writing that I didn't realize was buried within (Layers, Donkey, ogres have layers). I would like to continue growing as a writer and increase my exposure in the blogosphere (is that vain?). So, if you can think of ways to help me achieve this goal, your input would be greatly appreciated. Show some blog love by leaving a comment, and if you update your Blogger profile, I can return the love by sending a reply. And if you happen to have some gnome fabric laying around, my address is...

My Stock Is Up

It's officially fall, and the weather is cloudy with a chance of soup. Time to share my chicken stock recipe. First, buy a rotisserie chicken at the store and make several meals out of it, let's say chicken enchiladas, chicken pot pie or chicken burritos. Some of us have husbands that cook our whole chickens on the grill, but I get my chicken (but not my goose) cooked by the guy at Costco who wears a hair net over his beard. Next, get out the crock pot; this will be out often during fall, so make some counter space. Here's where it gets tricky, so you might want to grab a pen and paper. Put the chicken carcass in the crockpot, fill with water, turn it on low if you have 8 hours or more, high if you have 6 hours or less. Step away from the crockpot.
That's it folks, seriously. Some people may claim you need to add vegetables and herbs to the pot, while others insist on roasting the carcass first before watching it simmer on the stove for hours. I'm not one of those people. In the kitchen, as in many other areas of life, I believe less is more. And based on the number of bowls of soup I serve every year, my critics agree.

Now, what to do with the stock. Strain the liquid through a colander and pick off any remaining meat on the carcass and add to stock if desired. We often desire chicken noodle soup once the stock is made. It's almost as easy to make as the stock, with just a little chopping required.

Transfer stock to soup pot. Heat, but do not boil (this results in cloudy broth). If broth is too thin, add a teaspoon of Better Than Bullion (another staple during fall). Add chopped vegetables, such as carrots, celery, potatoes, squash and diced garlic. When vegetables begin to soften, add noodles and cook for a few more minutes, until noodles are cooked through. Season with dill, salt and pepper.

On good days, I make my own noodles using Betty Crocker's recipe, adding cracked pepper to the dough. My kids love to make a drying rack out of tinker toys and help roll the pasta dough. But on days when I've had six kids over playing all afternoon, a slight sore throat, and a husband who needs to eat before he leaves for work, I use ready made egg noodles from Trader Joe's. Sometimes I think they're even better than the real thing. Try it, you'll like it. It's good for the soul (and hopefully my sore throat).

What A Difference A Week Makes

Last week, we were in the pool.
This week, we are begging daddy for a hot tub.

Last week, we were in our bathing suits.
This week, we are in wool sweaters.

Last week, we were in flip flops.
This week, we are scrounging for socks.

Last week, we were in summer.
This week, we are in heaven.

Did you notice that summer left through the back door without saying goodbye, and fall took up residence as if she had never left at all? Welcome back dear friend. I've been looking forward to your visit. Would you like a cup of tea?

Yes Honey

"Mom?"
"Yes honey?"
"Can I have some hot cocoa?"
"Yes honey."

"Mom?"
"Yes honey?"
"Can you read me a book?"
"Yes honey."

"Mom?"
"Yes honey?"
"Can you tie my shoe?"
"Yes honey."

"Mom?"
"Yes honey?"
"I love you."

For those three words I gladly say "yes honey" hundreds of times every day, because each cup of cocoa served, each book read and each shoe tied simply means "I love you too".

Madge, I soaked in it!

Love to cook.

Hate to clean.

When I was still a teenager, living at home, my mom and I had a very agreeable arrangement. If I cooked, she would clean, and vice versa. I loved cooking, even back then, and my mom is great at cleaning. It was a match made in the kitchen. I had hopes that someday I would have a similar arrangement with my mate. A girl can dream, but not all dreams come true. While I married my best friend who loves to fix things, mows the lawn, moves walls for me, and is a great daddy, my knight in shining armor does not do dishes. I knew this well before we sealed the deal when I first saw his kitchen. I still can't eat frozen ravioli. Enough said.

I've come to realize that doing dishes is a good time to let my mind wander or just stare out the window, and if I stand on my tip toes while washing, I get a great calf workout. I've also learned that the garbage disposal is a great way to drown out undesirable background noise. So, how about you? Do you prefer cooking, cleaning, both or neither?

Give Us This Day Our Weekly Bread

In case you haven't noticed, there has been a lot of knitting and baking in these parts. These are two of the many reasons I love fall. Besides cookies, cakes, pies and key lime bars (which Avery made this morning and we ate for lunch), we also bake bread. Most bread making aficionados would scoff at my technique, but I LOVE MY BREAD MACHINE. Put the ingredients in, push a button, move on to other tasks, and then BEEP, the bread is done. Although the machine does the kneading and baking, I still can claim the bread is homemade from scratch. I've tried many recipes, but this one is my favorite by far. I make one loaf a week - we eat half right away and freeze half to use later in the week.

Cracked Wheat Bread (2 pound loaf)

1 2/3 cup water

2 Tbsp. Vegetable oil

2 cups All-purpose flour

2 cups Whole wheat flour

1 cup Cracked Wheat

2 tsp. salt

2 Tbsp. sugar (or honey)

2 tsp. bread machine yeast

Directions: Place all ingredients in the pan in order of recipe. Place pan in machine and select for large whole wheat loaf (select "rapid" if you have the option for a less dense bread) . Press start. Eat bread when you hear the beep. (Recipe inspired by Oster recipe book).

We love this bread toasted, grilled with cheese ("girl cheese sandwiches" as Aidan calls them), smothered with peanut butter and jelly, or hot from the bread machine with lots of butter and honey. It would be excellent with homegrown tomatoes, dijon mustard and organic cheese (wink). In fact, if you are reading this post while sipping tea, and you grow delicious tomatoes, and you lent me the yellow bowl seen above, you may want to check your front porch Tuesday morning. I have a feeling you may find a loaf of bread. Enjoy.

When The Mice Are Away

The cat will knit socks for the littlest mouse. These socks have been on the back burner since late spring. I just don't have it in me to pick up wool when it's over 90 degrees outside. The weather is changing, finally, and wool between my fingers feels good once more.

"Mom, it's taking you a long time to make these socks. Do you think they will still fit me when I'm five?" Aidan said. It's a good thing I didn't try a toe up pattern for these socks. His feet grew like weeds over the summer.
One down, one to go. The kids are enrolled in enrichment classes two days a week through the local home study program, which means I have two days a week to clean house, plan curriculum, go grocery shopping, or just knit and catch up on Entourage.


Knit two, purl two, miss two, make two socks by November two so Aidan will have socks that fit when he turns five.

The Good Science of Bad Housekeeping

Before leaving my family to go to the wine country and bathe in Pinot Noir, I made a loaf of bread and a pot of chicken noodle soup to fill my family's belly and assuage my guilt. I envisioned them feeling hugged as they slurped down a bowl of soup and ate toast with jelly. Apparently, they had other plans, such as Happy Meals. I came home to a molding loaf of bread and a pot half full of soup. Oh well. When the cat's away, the mice eat out.

The sight of moldy bread transported me back to third grade. My teacher, Mrs. Elskes, placed a piece of bread in a yellow Tupperware container and placed it in a cabinet so we could witness the growth of mold. I would open the container periodically and observe the fuzzy green fungus. So even though my homemade bread did not nourish my children's bodies while I was away, I decided it could nourish their minds with mommy home. Rather than throwing away the moldy bread, we kept it around for observation. We looked up mold in the dictionary and encyclopedia. We discussed the difference between harmful molds (black), tasty molds (cheese), and beneficial molds (antibiotics). We concocted a new mold growth experiment, using bread, cheese and compost bound fruit and vegetable remnants. If the kid's hypothesis is correct, we should see some growth by Friday.

Avery and I love to collect homophones and homonyms, so we discussed the alternate meanings of the word "mold". We mixed up some plaster and used bottle caps as molds. Not the best idea, as I still haven't figured out how to release the plaster from the bottle cap, but the kids liked playing with plaster.

Then we made a molded cake. Aidan was concerned that we were making moldy cake. I assured him that molded cake was much better than moldy cake, and they both agreed by having seconds.

Today they are making molded cookies with Grandma. I'm anxious to sample some shortbread when they come home. So next time you notice mold growing on food, don't berate yourself for being a bad housekeeper. Consider it an educational experience. Observe the different types of mold growing, from long stringy filaments to yellow clusters to green fuzz. Get out your candy molds and make something cute with plaster. Butter and flour your bundt pan and make some banana chocolate chip cake. Send your kids to grandma's to bake more delicious treats. Call it science for the week.

Drinking Coffee Elsewhere

Thanks to my gorgeous working friend who had a mandatory business retreat, I had the pleasure of spending a few days in the Russian River wine country. For the first time in years, I slept in a hotel bed by myself.

Enjoyed a two and a half hour dinner in a nice restaurant.

Saw how pinot noir is made.

Sampled a chardonnay that was still fermenting.

Thank you friend for making this trip possible, and thank you family for letting me go so I could remember there's no place I'd rather drink coffee than at home.

Dinner With Friends

Many of us know very well the joy of dining with girlfriends, but tonight my daughter discovered the fun to be had when a gaggle of girls gather around a table. Spaghetti, broccoli and ice water brought the girls to the table, but silly faces, giggles and a few dares kept them around the table long after the food was gone. It was truly a sight and sound to behold, and besides sneaking a few pictures and serving seconds, I kept my distance and let the girls be girls.

Dinner was followed by dessert and games outside. Today it's ice pops and Go Fish, but before long it will be tiramisu and Scrabble. Here's to many more dinners with friends and the absolute joy they bring to the table.

Have Another Slice

After devouring an apple pie for dessert last night, my family decided we needed to make another pie for dinner. That's right, pie for dinner and cake for breakfast. Before you get too excited and ask to move in, I should tell you the pie I made for dinner was chicken pot pie.

I convinced myself for years that I was unable to make pie crust. It took a recipe from Bon Appetit, a few tweaks and additions to that recipe, and pounds and pounds of butter to convince me otherwise.

All Butter Pie Crust

2 1/2 cups all purpose flour

1 T sugar

1 t salt

2 sticks chilled butter, cut into 1/2 inch cubes

4 - 6 T ice water

1 t apple cider vinegar (believe me on this ingredient - it adds just the right zing to any pie)

Blend flour, sugar and salt in processor. Add butter and pulse until a course meal forms. Add 3 tablespoons of water and apple cider vinegar and blend until clumps form, adding more water by the tablespoon if dough is dry. Blend until a ball forms. Flatten into two rounds disks, wrap and refrigerate for at least an hour. Soften briefly at room temperature before rolling.

This recipe makes enough for at least two pie crusts, four if you roll out your dough like my mother-in-law, which I have learned to do after years of careful observation. I'm sure you can dream up many different fillings to compliment this buttery pie crust, but here are some recipes suitable for dinner.

Chicken Pot Pie

4 potatoes, cubed

3 carrots, diced

4 stalks celery, diced

1/2 onion, chopped

olive oil, salt and pepper

Mix above ingredients in a 9x13 baking dish. Roast at 400 degrees for an hour, or until vegetables are roasted.

Add to baking dish and mix well:

1 to 1 1/2 cups chopped, cooked chicken (rotisserie chicken works well)

Prepared white sauce (I use the Betty Crocker recipe and add 1/2 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese)

Cover mixture with pie crust (use fork to vent crust) and bake at 375 degrees for 45 minutes.

Vegetable Quiche

1 pie crust

2 carrots, grated

1 bunch of broccoli, chopped

1 cup grated cheddar cheese

3 eggs

2/3 cup milk

salt and pepper to taste

1/2 teaspoon dill

Prepare pie crust in pie pan. Layer 1/2 cup cheese, followed by broccoli and carrots, and top with remaining cheese. In blender, mix eggs, milk, salt, pepper and dill. Pour egg mixture over the pie. Bake at 375 degrees for 45 minutes, or until quiche is set in the middle.

Spinach and Swiss Quiche

1 pie crust

1/2 onion, chopped

1 bunch spinach, rinsed, dried and chopped

1 cup grated Swiss cheese

3 eggs

2/3 cup milk

salt and pepper

pinch of nutmeg

Prepare pie crust in pie pan. Saute onion in olive oil until translucent, add spinach and stir until just wilted. Layer 1/2 cup Swiss cheese in bottom of pie crust, followed by spinach and onions, top with remaining Swiss cheese. In blender, mix eggs, milk, salt, pepper and nutmeg. Pour egg mixture over the pie and bake at 375 degrees for 45 minutes or until quiche is set in the middle.

My husband was convinced for years that real men did not eat quiche, so we call it by it's phonetic name: quickie. For more sensitive ears and palettes, we call it egg pie. My son always asks for more. The quiche can be made ahead of time and warmed up before serving (my mom prefers it this way rather than freshly baked). It also freezes well.

There's always room for pie. It makes a great meal, dessert or gift. Enjoy.

A Slice of Joy

When my nest is empty,

and my fruit trees are mature,

I will make a pie,

wrap it in a tea towel,

secure it with twine,

and deliver it to someone I love

on a Sunday afternoon.

I Remember When...

A few years ago, my aunt sent me a set of small bud vases and a cute note about the flowers my young children will bring to me. While my daughter loves to draw pictures of flowers or make flowers out of pipe cleaners for me, my son loves to bring me flowers. I have recently received several fistfuls of daisies, and he truly brings me joy with each precious petal. The flowers are tucked snugly into old spice jars, or even a thimble as shown, since I cannot locate the small bud vases. As I was doing dishes last night, gazing at the flowers on the kitchen windowsill, I was reminded of the song by Barbra Streisand and Neil Diamond that was popular when I was young, “You Don’t Bring Me Flowers”. The song used to remind me of my parents, but it took on a new meaning as I thought about my son. I realized that the day will come when he does not bring me flowers anymore. The smell of blooms will become a bittersweet memory as I remember when...

You Don't Bring Me Flowers

Why I Don't Scrapbook

I really don't need another messy activity. As much as I love pictures, paper, scissors, gel pens and stickers, I just can't bring myself to scrapbook. Most of my pictures reside digitally on CDs, while my actual pictures live in a box. Every few weeks, the kids and I get the box out and take a stroll down memory lane, or we pop a CD in the computer and watch a slide show. But sometimes, the kids want more from the pictures. They want to scrapbook.

Sometimes, I say yes. Out comes the pictures, scissors, stickers, glue sticks and beautiful paper, and an afternoon of memorable mess making ensues. Avery is putting together an adorable book of places she has been and people she loves.

Aidan has been wanting to make a book since we saw this project on DIY kids. His book is filled with pictures of him and his friends. Absolutely adorable.

When I first showed my blog to my scrapbooking friend, Marjorie, she responded, "You're just scrapbooking online." It's true - pictures and journal boxes fill my blog, but not my coffee table. I have good intentions of doing something with all of our pictures one day, but for now this is a nice, clean, safe place to share and store our memories. Perhaps I'll follow in my mom's footsteps and present a scrapbook to my children when they have children. Twenty or more years is plenty of time to put together a baby album, right?